


Blood Stained

by HollyeLeigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Whumptober 2018, season 5 canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 20:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16166744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: Season 5 canon divergence: Killian returns from the Underworld, but his hook is giving him hell.





	Blood Stained

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt fulfillment for whumptober 2018: A Haunted/cursed item (hook), Bloody Hand(s), and Fevers.

* * *

Killian had felt that something was off early on, but he’d chalked it up to the trauma he’d sustained under Hades sadistic ministrations, and nearly losing himself to the River of Souls. The creeping sensation of something sinister taking root within him was pushed aside in the face of his emotional reunion and subsequent farewell to his brother. Then, after Swan had left him alone at the base of the elevator shaft, nothing felt as if it mattered any longer. Now that he was back in Storybrooke with his true love, Killian couldn’t deny the sense of dread any longer.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

When Killian had first arrived in the Underworld there had been a glorious, if not fleeting moment of pure peace. Completely free of darkness, whether of a curse or his own making, he had hoped that his sacrifice had been enough to balance the scales. It hadn’t been long after that Hades’ minions had gotten a hold of him, leaving him with only pain and anger at his own foolishness. It seemed no amount of change, or distance trod on a hero’s journey could have ever earned him a different sentence in the afterlife.

However, hope had blossomed again when his Swan had made her presence known, and despite his initial wavering he did truly believe that he was, or could be, a man worth saving. So much so, that he was starting to question how much of that wavering had truly been him, for ever since Swan had secured his hook back into place after rescuing him, he hadn’t truly felt like himself.

Well, not his current self, his new self, any how.

There was something disturbingly familiar about the menacing blackness he felt seeping into his soul. It knew where all the cracks were, fresh from their carving by the mire of the curse during his stint as a Dark One. But it wasn’t the sentient collective evil of those demons that ghosted through him from the origins of his hook’s tip, this was something altogether different, and yet… he recognized it.

Had Hades done something to the metal appendage when he’d been in possession of it? Corrupted the symbol he’d taken on as a moniker during his reign as a ruthless villain? He knew that spells cast with dark magic tended to break once the caster was dead, but did that hold true if the magic was divine in nature? How did one break the magic of a god?

Most days it wasn’t even an issue, the love of his Swan and the acceptance of friends and those he now considered his family sustained him against the shadows of his past. Other days, though. It was a hot, pulsing rhythm like a festering wound radiating under his skin. He knew he ought to say something, mention the dark impulses and even darker instincts that twitched down his left arm, threatening to take over his good sense when something, or someone, irked him or caused a perceived slight, not matter how inconsequential or unintentional. Fear caused him to remain silent, though. Fear that it wasn’t a curse or an enchantment that was affecting his hook at all, but simply his old nature resurrecting itself as Zeus had done with his body and soul.

That worry would prove itself false though, when the far more horrifying reality came to light one morning whilst he and Emma were out on patrol.

“We gotta go. One of the dwarves just called in a disturbance at the town line.”

When nothing apparent was amiss after they’d arrived, Emma suggested they split up and canvas the area. His agitation over being on some fool’s errand, thanks once again to the dwarves, when he could be _patrolling_ his Swan in the back of the cruiser, quickly spiraled into full blown rage as the first drizzle of autumn rain began to fall. Taking his fury out on the trees as he marked his path, Killian envisioned embedding his hook in the dwarves bellies rather than the tender bark of the damp pines.

After weeks of suppression, something snapped within Killian. Something dark and sinister that vibrated in the metal of his hook and hummed its way through the chords of soul. He was overcome by an insatiable thirst to do harm, to maim, to kill, to inflict pain - to embrace his former villainy.

That’s what it was. Villainy.

The symbol of his villainy had somehow been imbued with the darkness of his past deeds and the blackness that had once filled his heart. He’d kept the hook as a reminder of who he once was and vowed to never be again, but that vow was suddenly in jeopardy. As were the people he cared for and loved the most.

Killian grasped his hook and twisted it in an attempt to release it from the brace, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried anchoring it in a fallen log to gain additional leverage, but it was useless. Hastily he removed his jacket and tore at the buttons of his waist coat and shirt, fumbling with the buckles of his brace once his garments were removed. A searing pain lanced through his forearm, and he cried out in both pain and horror at the sight of his leather brace fusing into skin, grafting itself down to the bone.

He grappled with the hook once more. His palm, slick from his distress, slipped over its smooth finish and sliced across the sharp tip. Blood poured from the deep laceration as Killian frantically clawed at the brace, his panic spiking along with his pulse when he heard Emma call out for him.

He couldn’t let her near him while he was like this. He’d never forgive himself if he…

The vision of his hook sinking into her soft flesh propelled him deeper into the woods. The brief flush of satisfaction the image created had him choking back bile as he ran through the forest, leaving a trail of blood behind from his still dripping hand and the fresh scratches criss crossing his face and body from the brambles. The pain in his arm from where the brace had imbedded itself sprawled outward planting roots of anguish throughout his entire body.

Soon the torment became too much to bear, and exhaustion forced him to stop. He took sanctuary under a large pine tree, the rain now coming down in sheets and making him shiver. He continued to dig at the seam that joined the brace to his flesh, until his fingers became too numb and the site too bloodied to distinguish between skin and leather. Tremors wracked his body and the rough bark of the tree dug into his back. Blinking wearily he could barely make out Emma’s approach, the heavy crunch of the leaves under her boots revealing her hurried steps towards him.

“Swan, no,” he warned feebly. His head lolled forward and it took great effort to lift it back up to rest against the trunk.

“Killian! My god, what’s happened to you?”

“Stay back,” he warned again, this time with a bit more force behind his words that, thankfully, had her slowing her approach as she scanned their surroundings warily.

Pulling her gun from her holster, she continued to survey the area and asked, “Who did this to you?”

His head flopped from side to side against the bark as he shook his head. “No one. It’s… my hook. Something’s… something’s wrong with it.” His teeth were chattering painfully now, the intermediate tremors he’d been experiencing were now a constant torrent of spasms rolling over him.

“Well, let’s get it off you then,” Swan replied pragmatically, sending a swell of rage cresting over him.

“I’ve tried!” he shouted, startling her with his sudden burst of anger fueled vehemence. “It’s fused itself right into my bloody skin. Right down to the bone!”

He lifted his left arm to show her, and that was a mistake. Without any intention on his part, the hook swung out and missed his Swan’s neck by mere millimeters. Killian’s heart jumped into his throat at the close call, his eyes locked onto hers and he could see by the look there that she understood he was not in control. The hook raised itself again, but Killian managed to grab his braced wrist and guide it to a different target than his love, impaling it deep into his own thigh. A scream tore from the back of his throat, and Emma was beside him in an instant.

“Killian!” Her hands went straight to his face, cradling it in her palms. “You’re burning up,” she said, assessing his wounds with a look of shock radiating from her eyes. “God, how much blood have you lost? We need to get you the hospital. Can you stand?” Without waiting for his reply, she tried to pry his right hand off his left arm where he was still holding his hook in place.

“No!” He nudged her away with his shoulder in a panic, and the sudden motion sent a wave of nausea through him, causing him to sway into her arms. He felt a warm breeze rustle over his skin, and Emma’s magic shone bright against his closed eyelids, but it was to no avail. Her magic had no effect in healing him.

“Killian, we have to get you help.” Emma tried reasoning with him, her voice shaking with fear.

He knew he must look a fright; deathly pale, covered in blood and dirt and leaves, with his own hook lodged in his leg. Even if he wanted to, he doubted he’d get very far with his injuries. Whatever force had cursed his hook seemed to make sure that any wounds it inflicted would be as severe as possible. Blood still flowed freely from his hand, and the trickle at his leg was coming at a steady stream.

“I can’t, Swan,” he despaired “If I remove the hook in order to walk I fear I’ll bleed to death before we make it to the road.”

“You don’t have to walk. I can magic us straight to the hospital, remember? It’s just easier if your standing, so I need you to get up.”

She reached for his hand again, and he begged her, “Wait! Cut it off first.”

“Cut what off?” Her brows furrowed in confusion, and he swallowed hard before answering.

“The hook, the brace, cut the damn thing off before we subject an emergency room full of people to this… this… whatever the hell this is!”

“Killian you’re delirious with fever. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

He shook his head against her words, beads of perspiration from the cold sweat that broke over him slipped down his forehead and into his eyes as the abyss waited in his periphery. “I do know,” he growled. “I’ve lived without my damn hand for centuries, what’s losing another few inches of my arm going to change?” He turned his pleading eyes onto her and implored, “Please, Swan. I could have killed you just now. I can’t control it, and I won’t...”

The forest floor where they sat began spinning, and he fell further into Emma’s arms unable to finish his thought and knowing his words had started to become slurred. His body shivered, feeling colder than it had just moments ago, and her arms tightened around him.

“Killian!” Emma’s voice was like cotton in his ears. His body shifted and met the cold, sodden earth. Another violent spasm rolled through him and he released his hold on the hook still buried in his thigh. Reaching up he caressed his Swan’s tear stained cheek, unintentionally marring her creamy complexion with his blood as his fingers trailed down her beautiful face before he succumbed to the dark chasm of oblivion.

~/~

Killian let out a soft groan as he slowly made his way back into consciousness. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know he was no longer on the forest floor. It seemed Emma had been able to get him to the hospital after all; the familiar sounds and smells from when he’d been a patient here the last time focused themselves in his mind, attesting to his whereabouts. He struggled with the duality of feeling warm and comfortable under the soft blankets, with plush pillows supporting his head, while also experiencing a sense of dread at what he might come to find from the throbbing ache in his forearm.

Had she done as he’d asked? Had she cut off the brace, leaving him as even less than he was before?

He knew he couldn’t rely on the pain to reassure him. Fantom twinges had ached in the left hand that was no longer there for ages after the crocodile had cut it off. How long would he have to endure that torture once again?

“Killian?” Emma said softly beside him. “I think he’s coming around.”

There were shuffling noises indicating that there were more people than just his Swan in the room with them. He forced his eyelids open and groaned again at the harsh artificial light burning against his retina.

“Hey there, handsome,” Emma greeted, running her fingers through his hair and smiling gently. “You gave us quite a scare.”

Killian attempted to swallow, but couldn’t work up the necessary saliva to accomplish the task. Sensing his need, Emma produced a cup of water and guided the straw to his mouth so he could take a much needed drink. He sputtered and coughed at the friction of the liquid against his raw, dry palate, but managed to take in a few sips to relieve his parched throat.

“Wh-what happened,” he croaked. Still unwilling to face the prospect of what remained of his arm, Killian kept his gaze firmly upon Emma’s face.

“You’d lost a lot of blood, and your fever was scary high. My magic wasn’t working on you, so Regina had to place you under a preservation spell to keep you alive.” She wiped away a tear that had slid from her lashes, but persevered in maintaining a brave face as she continued the tale. “I wouldn’t let them cut off your arm, so Whale actually performed surgery to remove the brace. Once it was off your wounds started to heal, but they still won’t respond to magic.”

“So… my arm? It’s-”

“Just the way it was before,” she assured him.

He pressed his head back further into the pillow and closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Do we know what caused it?”

“Regina’s working on it,” she told him. “Gold has a theory, but I haven’t let him anywhere near you or your hook,” she added quickly, knowing he wouldn’t have trusted the crocodile to actually offer any true assistance in his plight.

“What’s his theory?” Killian asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“That it was one of Hades’ tricks. A spell to make you believe you were becoming a villain again. That if he could get you to believe it, or act upon it, then it would keep you from being able to move on. He thinks you were resurrected before the spell could fully mature, but somehow the effects of it still crossed over with you.”

The two sat in silence as Killian mulled over Emma’s words. It seemed a plausible enough theory, and would certainly explain some of things he’d been battling within himself since Emma rescued him. Of course, they may never discover the truth, and with Emma continuing to caress his hair and forehead he wasn’t all that sure he even cared. It was over now. He was alive, safe, and so was everyone else who mattered to him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Emma questioned with her teeth worrying at her lip. “Regina said this had to have been coming on for awhile. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Killian took a bracing breath, drumming up the courage his honesty would require before meeting his Swan’s gaze. “Because it still feels so fragile. What we have. What we share.” He reached up and took her hand in his, no longer stained with blood. “I know True Love is the most powerful magic of all, but most days it feels as delicate as spun glass, and I live in constant torment that one wrong word or deed will cause it to shatter.”

She squeezed his hand and offered him a sympathetic smile. “I know exactly how you feel. Neither of us ever expected to find what we have, but we _did_. Trust me, I get how scary the thought of losing it is, but Killian… we already did once. You _died_.” Another tear made its way down her cheek; one to match his own. “Multiple times, actually,” she said with a watery chuckle.

“Survivor,” he cheeked back with a hint of mirth.

“That’s exactly my point,” she exhorted. “We’re survivors, you and I, which means our love is, too. You have to believe that. _We_ have to believe that.”

Killian raised her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles. “Aye, love. You’re right. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the moment I thought something was wrong. I should never keep things from you. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“Sure you will,” she quipped and he raised his brows at her in mocked offense.

“Oi!”

“What? You’re a pirate. I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson about hiding things as serious as this, but don’t think for a second that I believe you won’t be sneaky about other things in the future.”

“Well, a man has to keep a few secrets to himself, Swan. Helps with the intrigue.” He smirked as he swaggered his brows at her, earning him an eye roll. “Speaking of intrigue,” he prompted after they’d shared a cleansing laugh to lighten the heaviness that had hung in the air since he’d woken, “How long must I stay here?”

“Whale will probably make you stay another few days at least. He wants to make sure the incision site where they had to extract the brace heals without any complications, especially since the wound was magical in nature.”

Killian let out a long suffering sigh at the prospect of being stuck in bed for several days. At least he wasn’t cuffed to the frame this time around… although, given how his and Emma’s relationship had changed since then...

“I know what you’re thinking, and no,” Emma admonished, pulling her hand from his and standing to her feet. Killian pouted at her, jutting out his bottom lip while his forget-me-not eyes made a pleading appeal. “No,” she stated again, with a little less conviction; a fact that made the corners of Killian’s lip twitch in triumph. Emma rolled her eyes again and promptly changed the subject. “I’m going to go see what’s keeping Whale. My parents went to get him when you started to stir. I’ll also call Regina and have her bring Henry up. He’s been very worried about you.”

Killian’s chest filled with an affectionate warmth in response to her words. “That would be grand. I’d like to see the lad. Thank you.”

“Is there anything I can get you while I’m gone? And don’t say rum.”

Killian chuckled. “No. Nothing. Just… hurry back?”

“I will. Promise.”

Emma turned to leave, but before she could make her way out the door Killian called out to her. The memory of their interaction the last time he’d been laid up in a hospital bed prompting him to ask, “There is something I am interested in… out of curiosity, where _is_ that bloody hook of mine?” Emma shot him a look, and realization sunk in. “Right… poor choice of words.”


End file.
